


Entangle

by buhnebeest



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Beards (Facial Hair), Chest Hair, F/M, Fluff, Post-Coital, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-17 03:09:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8128057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buhnebeest/pseuds/buhnebeest
Summary: Smiling to herself, Lieke carefully traced her fingertips over his barrel chest. He had pitch-dark hair there that curled like ram’s wool, but lighter, softer; threaded through with pale silver, like it was spun from the night sky.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [trikruklark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trikruklark/gifts).



Sometimes, after they made love, Lieke didn’t really want to sleep. She was tired, yes, body heavy and warm from the rosy aftermath of intimacy, but she didn’t want to miss out on how good she felt with <em>sleep</em>. There were far more interesting things to do that required her eyes to be open.

Blackwall was dozing, spread-eagled and prone beneath her, his chest rising and falling slowly with every one of his deep, relaxed breaths. Lieke sat perched on his pelvis, staring down at him – he was a fascinating, enrapturing sight, an artwork of contradictions: rough-knuckled hands that touched her only gently; intimidating bulk he used to protect, to shelter; a heavy, worn heart that loved her fiercely.

Smiling to herself, Lieke carefully traced her fingertips over his barrel chest. He had pitch-dark hair there that curled like ram’s wool, but lighter, softer; threaded through with pale silver, like it was spun from the night sky. It was like that all over; course hairs decorated his forearms, his legs, a line down his stomach; down to the curls by his groin. There seemed no rhyme or reason to the way humans grew hair – he even had some under his armpits! – but she liked how it looked, how it felt, coarse and soft all at once. Lieke knew not which she preferred, the soft scour of his beard in her neck or the prickle of it between her thighs, the way her skin felt tender after, rubbed red and sweetly sore. Or maybe it was Blackwall tutting over the marks and carefully stroking elfroot balm into her skin, gentle and lingering.

Lieke scooted forward a little, until she was sitting on his chest and could better tangle her fingers in his beard. When she still had two hands she used to braid it, just for fun; it was a bit harder now, but Blackwall let her practice to her heart’s content.

“I will never know how you enjoy this,” he murmured, voice sleep-rough and low in the quiet. His eyes were still closed, but there was a smile playing at his lips; amusement hiding in the pretty crow’s feet by his temples. His hands curled over her thighs as she worked on her braids, thumbs stroking lazy circles over her skin.

“I wonder if…” Lieke trailed off, heart fluttering nervously. Blackwall opened his eyes and watched her patiently, apparently hearing something in her voice that required his full attention.

Lieke swallowed and slowly reached down to take his hand, bringing it to rest on her belly. “…if the babe will have a pelt like you.”

For a long, breathless moment, Blackwall stared up at her in complete silence.

“You… are you joking?” he breathed finally, slowly rising to sit, holding her as she tumbled into his lap. He stared down at their joined hands on her belly between them, then back at her, some familiar light brimming in his eyes she recognized at once for how often it graced his face when he looked at her: stunned wonder.

Lieke shook her head, heart thumping with joy. “Six weeks along, the healer says.”

Blackwall made a rough choking noise and wrapped his arms around her, pressing his forehead to hers.

“A pelt, she says!” He was grinning harder that she’d ever seen him, wide and bright like the rising sun. “This is how you tell me I am to be a father?”

Lieke giggled, cheeks flushing. “I just wonder if he will have your coat markings!”

Blackwall barked a laugh. “He won’t. Or she won’t. If my luck holds, the babe will look exactly like you.”

Lieke bit her lip against a smile, cheeks heating slightly. Even now, his flattery flustered her at times.

“I don’t know,” she whispered, and kissed him, curling her arms around his neck. Her heart felt full, fit to burst. She kissed him intently, deeply, relishing the bristle of his beard – until she was breathless with it, and even then she couldn’t stop, staying close, lips brushing, sharing breath.

“Now I want a little bear cub.”


End file.
